THIS IS ANOTHER NIGHT OF HATRED.
AND I HATE YOU BECAUSE I WRITE SOMETHING
ABOUT YOU; NOT IN THE ROMANTIC WAY
OF SPILLED-INK WORDS BUT RATHER THE AGONY
OF THE PAST YOU BROUGHT TO ME.
YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW LONELY AND
MISERABLE MY SOUL IS, UNTIL YOU CRAWL EACH
INCH OF MY SKIN AND DEVOUR THE POISONOUS
IMAGES OF MY MIND, NOT UNLESS YOU WITNESS
HOW I WAS BORN AND HOW MY EYES GRIEVE FOR
THAT DAY. THIS IS ANOTHER LETTER FOR YOU, THAT
YOU WILL NEVER READ.

"i love you"
that's the phrase you always
tell me.
our hands entangled with
a soft hymn, and
meeting eyes in a
secluded space.
you brought the love i've
been hunting for .
soft kisses of delight,
be mine.

i could not write
a
perfect poem of the
tragedy i'm living now.
these lines seem so dull,
just like the life
i have now.